


Mr. & Mrs. Smith

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Fluff, Love, Marriage, Office Sex, Smut, life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Snippets of the life Dean Smith (It’s A Terrible Life - 4x17) and the reader share.





	Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Dean was just about finished with the meeting, aching to empty his bladder and return to his office for a coffee before he was deluged with the afternoon’s problems. As the chairman wrapped up, he thanked the portly gentleman and left the room, cursing the free coffee at the promotion event that morning.

Dashing to the restroom, he relieved himself and bolted to his office, purposefully avoiding his secretary, lest she have something he’d have to give up his lunch break for.

He was not expecting to find you in his office, nude except for glasses perched on your nose, and a blue file covering your breasts.

Mostly.

Your legs were folded over one another and Dean almost swallowed his tongue as he shut the door and locked it. “Happy birthday,” you purred, lifting your legs and swapping them over, making it clear you weren’t wearing anything but the glasses.

Dean stuttered, unsure how to speak as his downstairs brain surged to life.

Standing up, you ditched the file on his desk and crossed the room to him. You took hold of his favorite red tie and tugged him closer. “I figured I’d surprise you.”

“It’s not my birthday until -” Dean paused, counting the days before a sheepish expression crossed his face. “Wasn’t it Christmas last week?” he asked, puzzled. You giggled, pulling him down for a deep kiss that he eagerly returned, sliding his hands over your bare ass.

“It’s January 24th, baby,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling his head to the side, kissing along his pulse point. “Someone’s tense.”

“Well, I was expecting to sit down and eat my sandwich,” Dean said, grimacing when you dragged your teeth over his skin. “I wasn’t expecting Helga’s House Of Pain.”

You released him, pouting. “Too much?” you asked and he chuckled, cupping your face.

“You’re scary when you’re horny,” he muttered, kissing the tip of your nose before kissing your lips softly. The kiss deepened and you moaned, melting against him. “I missed you.”

“I told you I’d be back for your birthday,” you whispered, catching his bottom lip between your teeth. “Besides, it was really boring without you.”

Dean shook his head, sighing heavily. “I can’t believe you don’t enjoy Vegas.”

“I don’t enjoy Vegas when you’re not there with me,” you corrected and Dean gave you a dirty look, grabbing your ass and squeezing.

His voice was low as he dragged you close so you could feel the outline of his erection in his slacks poking into your hip. “We never leave the hotel when we go to Vegas.”

“Why do you think I enjoy it so much?” you replied and Dean gave a sexy little growl, pushing you back towards his desk. He pulled his tie off, his predatory smirk fixed on you. You giggled playfully, leaning back against the desk as he came for you.

His fingers gripped your hips, turning you around so you were forced to place your palms on the desk. “Stay put,” Dean ordered, voice a low growl. You shuddered, doing as he asked, biting your bottom lip when he dropped to his knees behind you. His big hands spread your ass cheeks, exposing your pussy and you sucked in a breath when he softly blew across your swollen lips.

He followed with his tongue, tracing your folds teasingly. Your fingers curled against the top of the desk, nails scratching on the metal surface. Dean’s mouth was pressed against you now, sucking your clit between his lips. “Missed your taste,” he murmured, pulling back to press his fingers against your hole, making you whimper needily. “Wanna cum for me, princess?”

Dean never usually waited for an answer; his impatience often got the best of him but you weren’t complaining. He thrust his fingers into you slowly, coating them with your slick as he forced them deeper. You moaned loudly and Dean chuckled, his eyes locked on the sight of your wet cunt taking his fingers over and over.

You came with a shuddering cry, pushing back onto him and Dean groaned when you tightened around his digits. When he pulled away, you whined in protest, earning a light smack to your ass. “Spread your legs,” he commanded, unbuckling his pants as he got to his feet.

Obeying, you held your breath, hearing his pants hit the floor with a heavy thud of the belt buckle. A second later, the tip of his cock brushed your ass and you whimpered, bottom lip wobbling.

“What an ass,” Dean growled, squeezing one cheek and you wiggled your ass in return, earning yourself another sharp little slap. “All mine.”

“Yes, sir,” you moaned, hands clawing at the table when he started to penetrate you, filling you slowly. He always did this; Dean didn’t rush the first touch, the first slick slide of his body pushing into yours. His fingers were gripping your hips tight enough to make your skin pale under his nails.

He stopped when his pelvis crushed against your ass, the tip of his cock pressed tight inside you, making it hard to breathe. All you could focus on was the thickness inside you, the pleasure of his cockhead against your cervix. Dean was shaking with the effort of restraining himself; he gasped and leaned over, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured, “so much.”

“I know,” you replied softly at his hopeless romantic streak.

You could feel his smile against your shoulder before he pulled away, groaning as you clenched around him.

It was surprising no one hear the shocked cry you made when Dean started to fuck you hard against the desk. He’d had his fun and you were along for the ride, clinging to the desk as Dean slammed into you over and over.

He knew your body well enough to make you cum on a whim.

Dean finished quickly - office sex was always about time restraint, normally because his secretary wouldn’t leave him alone for more than twenty minutes. You lay nude across his desk, a piece of paperwork stuck to your face. Dean pulled away with a groan, snatching the box of tissues from his desk to clean up.

“Where are your clothes?” he asked, pulling his pants up.

“On the coffee table,” you yawned, standing up straight and Dean paused when you stretched, his gaze darkening as he dragged them over your naked body. “What?” His eyes narrowed at your innocent comment and the way you batted your eyelashes at him before striding across the room, his cum staining your thighs.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Dean murmured, smirking. You flashed him a grin, quickly pulling on your summer dress and slipping your sandals on. Your husband’s eyes went wide for a moment. “Did you… walk through my office wearing no panties?” he asked and your grin only widened. He crossed the room in two steps, pulling you against his body, kissing you breathless. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispered seductively, cupping your face, “but I bet it was real bad.”

You grabbed his ass and squeezed, kissing him back. “I gotta go. I’m going shopping with Angie.”

“Please tell me you’re going home for panties first?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you pulled away, grabbing your purse. “Baby…”

Pausing with your hand on the door handles, you looked back at him with a flirtatious wink. “Where would be the fun in that?”

*****

A frustrated cry caught Dean’s attention and he frowned from where he was pouring two glasses of wine. You were on the couch, ignoring whatever crime drama Dean was watching, trying to swim through paperwork.

“Hey,” he muttered softly, approaching with the wine, “why don’t you give that a break?”

“Because it needs to be done,” you snapped back and Dean sighed, taking the seat next to you and you slouched in apology. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking the glass of wine as he offered it. “It’s been a really shitty week and these proposals need to be on Alex’s desk tomorrow morning.”

“Can I help?” Dean asked, leaning forward to peer at your paperwork. “I mean, I’m junior executive. I must be doing something right.”

You smiled and nodded, picking up your notes and showing them to Dean. Between the two of you, it took less than two hours to get done and a whole bottle of wine. By the time it was finished, the crime shows were done and an old episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer was on the screen.

“Should I open another bottle?” Dean whispered, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head. You shook yours, looking up at him.

“I think I’ve probably had enough,” you commented. “I’m feeling a little drunk.”

Dean smirked. “Does that mean if I do this,” he placed his hand on your breast through your vest, squeezing gently, “I’d be taking advantage?”

“No,” you giggled, grabbing his hand to make him squeeze harder. “But you could never take advantage of me.” A playful growl left him instead of a verbal answer and Dean pounced without warning, his larger body covering yours on the couch. You were only wearing a tank top and a pair of sleep shorts, which Dean easily got his fingers underneath.

With a gasp, you arched into his touch, drowning in kisses as he explored your sex with his fingers, sinking one into you to the knuckle. “You like that?” he snarled, biting your bottom lip between his teeth, provoking your hum of approval.

The kisses continued as Dean slowly fucked you with one finger, dragging out the pleasure until you were whispering the word “more” against his lips. He didn’t give you what you wanted right away - he never did.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he muttered, dragging his finger from you before pushing two back in, eliciting a tiny little whine from your lips. Your hands clutched his biceps, feeling them flex underneath your fingers. “Want me to slide right into this tight warm pussy?”

Fuck. Yes.

Dean’s mouth hovered over your lips and you could smell the scent of wine lingering on his breath. He smiled as your body twitched. “How bad?” he teased. “How badly are you thinking about me filling you with my cock, baby?”

You clenched your jaw and groaned, unable to voice what you wanted. He was too good at this.

A third finger was inside you now, slowly thrusting to open you up. You felt like you were gushing with arousal; the fight to keep your eyes open was lost with each little wave of pleasure. Dean pulled back, watching your face as you came undone with his fingers inside you and with a dirty smirk, he tucked his fingertips up against the rough little spot on your inner walls.

You might have screamed but you couldn’t hear anything except for the rushing of blood in your ears. Your nails were clutching Dean’s biceps so tightly that he was grimacing but he didn’t stop until you were shaking your head from side to side, pleading for him to stop.

“Too much?” he asked, withdrawing and pressing in for a deep kiss as he pulled your shorts down. He could feel you shuddering all over when he pulled back. “I got what you want,” Dean murmured, pushing his sweats down. Slotting himself between your legs, he lined himself up, sinking into you with a low groan.

Crying out when he was finally inside you, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in to kiss him again. You clung to each other tightly, barely parting except for the need to breathe.

“Love you,” you whispered in between kisses, “so much.”

Dean smiled, not breaking his pace as he made love to you on the couch cushions, the lights of the television flickering over your skin and his.

You shifted, lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist, deepening the angle of his penetration and Dean growled low in his throat. “You tryin’ to get me to cum?” he asked and you smiled, surrendering to another bone-shuddering kiss.

Finishing within seconds of each other, you didn’t part immediately, indulging in a lazy post-coital make-out session until you realized you were probably staining the cushions. Dean moved with a chuckle, pulling his sweats back up.

“Shower?” you asked and Dean grinned.

“I was thinking bed. And round two.”

*****

The smell of cooking food filled every inch of the apartment as you and Dean sat on the living room floor, right near the huge Christmas tree. “Our first Christmas alone,” he murmured, kissing your forehead.

You smiled, leaning into him for a second, before sitting up. “Speaking of,” you said quietly, “I have another present.”

He grinned. “Is it kinky?”

A giggle left you as you reached over and picked up a box from underneath the tree, sliding it into his lap. Dean frowned and picked it up. “It’s not kinky,” you informed him, “but I’m hoping it’s something that will make you really happy.”

He gave you a puzzled look before tearing the ribbon off of the box. The lid came off easily in his hands and Dean kept looking confused as he pulled the paper away from the thin folded fabric underneath. The soft white fabric was embroidered with the words “Baby’s First Christmas”.

Realization set in over his face and his jaw went slack. “I’m afraid it’s our last Christmas alone,” you whispered, smiling shyly.

Dean stared at the romper suit, his eyes slowly sliding over to you. “We’re pregnant?”

“We’re pregnant,” you confirmed, clasping your hands together against your mouth, the anticipation making your eyes water.

He moved in a flash, dropping the romper and box to the ground, launching himself at you. You laughed hysterically as Dean peppered you with kisses. “I love you,” he murmured over and over. His fingers tickled at your sides and you shrieked in laughter.

“Dean, I’m gonna pee!” you cried out and Dean stopped, perching on his knees with an adoring look in his eyes. Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you watched him bend down, sliding your top up to get at your bare stomach. “What’re you doin’?” you asked lazily.

“I’m kissing,” he pressed his lips to your navel and you giggled again, “my baby and her momma.”

“We don’t know it’s a girl,” you said quietly and Dean smiled.

“Don’t matter either way. She’s made of you.”

*****

The doctor was speaking and you could hear him but nothing was going through. There was something wrong with her. Everything was crashing.

“I won’t lie to you, Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Dr. Gosford was saying and you squeezed Dean’s hand. He was staring straight ahead and didn’t react. “It’s a difficult procedure and the risk to both you and your baby are significant. But, if we wait, the risk will be greater and there is a chance you will lose her.”

Thirty-five percent.

That was the chance you could die. A fifty percent chance the baby could die.

Dean turned his head slowly, mechanically, looking at you. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do…” He thought you did? How were you supposed to make a decision like this?

“I can give you a few moments,” the doctor said, standing from his desk and walking around. “Talk it over. I’ll be back shortly.” He nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door on you, Dean and the thick atmosphere between you.

“How did this happen?” Dean’s eyes were on the floor as he spoke.

You looked away, taking your hand out of his. The feeling that he was blaming you wouldn’t leave you alone, making you doubt everything you had with him. Standing up, you crossed the room to look at a board, feigning interest, trying to hold back the tears.

Dean’s arms surrounded you, shocking you enough to break the thin control you had. You sobbed loudly, turning into his hold, clutching at his shirt. He cradled the back of your head with his hand, tucking you into his shoulder. Your bump was squished between you, tiny little flutters making you aware of the baby growing inside.

“Can we find out the sex?” he asked and you pulled away looking up at him. “I know I said I wanted to wait but… I feel like we should pick a name.”

You nodded, touching his face. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that,” you answered, tears still falling down your face. “This isn’t fair,” you lamented, hiccuped sobs interrupting your speech. Dean shook his head, his own tears falling.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, wiping away your tears. “But we’re gonna figure it out.”

“I wanna have the surgery,” you told him. “I know it’s a big risk. I know…”

“I might lose both of you.” Dean’s voice was broken and he looked terrified. You’d never seen him this scared; your big brave husband who always protected you. But this wasn’t something he could protect you from and it was rattling him to his core. “But it’s your body.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my body. It’s our baby.” You cupped his face again, feeling the scruff on his cheeks. “We make the decision together.”

Dean nodded, swallowing his tears and kissing you softly. “Together,” he whispered and you closed your eyes, leaning into his embrace.

*****

His knee was bouncing uncontrollably and the plastic seat was hurting his ass. The nurse had offered him a seat in the waiting room with the other families but Dean couldn’t deal with the noise. He chose to remain in the corridor, three doors away from the surgical area, where you were.

Three hours had passed since he’d had to leave your side, since something had gone wrong and they’d wheeled you into surgery.

He’d never felt agony like this, having to wait. Even with the high-stakes deals he was involved in at the firm, he’d never know anything to hurt so much.

Dean got to his feet, pacing the empty corridor in an attempt to burn off some of his nervous energy. He knew his family and hers would kill him for not telling them but Dean didn’t want them here fussing over him. When… when you were out and awake, he’d call them.

A doctor came out of the surgical wing and Dean went stock still. The other man smiled and carried on walking, leaving Dean with a thumping heart and sick nervousness in his belly as he watched the man walk away.

“Mr. Smith?” He turned, seeing the doctor that had been treating you. She had a kind smile on her face, not the sort you’d wear when telling someone their wife was dead, so Dean remained hopeful. “We’ve managed to repair the damage. If you want to follow me, your wife is in recovery.”

You looked like shit and you knew it but it didn’t stop you smiling when your eyes landed on Dean, walking through the door. He was pale and looked exhausted but he smiled back, taking your hand as soon as he reached you.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you rasped back.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” the doctor informed him, patting his shoulder as she left. Dean barely spared her a glance, too engrossed in you, there and breathing in front of him.

“You didn’t call anyone, did you?” you asked quietly and Dean shook his head. “Good. I don’t want my mom fussing.” Dean chuckled, unable to stop his relieved tears as they started to fall and he kissed your hand desperately. “What?”

“I didn’t call her or my mom for that reason,” he admitted. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Bed rest,” you groaned. “I hate staying still.”

“You’ll do it,” Dean informed you, smiling fondly. “You’ll do it for her.”

You smiled as brightly as you could. “Yeah,” you agreed. “I’ll do it for her.”

*****

The baby monitor screamed at him as he lay on the couch with one eye open. He’d only got home from work a few moments before and he was hoping that he could grab a nap before baby Ava woke up. But Ava Smith was no fool - she had her daddy wrapped around her little finger.

“I’ve got it,” you told him, running from the bathroom to the bedroom in probably the smallest towel in existence. Dean’s eyes followed your bare ass down the corridor, grinning indulgently. Yeah, you’d gained a few pounds since having your daughter but damn; you wore them well.

When you returned to the living room, you were wearing your fluffy bathrobe - the one you’d gotten him for Christmas a couple of years ago. Dean had worn it maybe three times before it had become yours. Ava was perched on your hip, her entire fist in her mouth, face blotchy and swollen from crying.

“Hey, sweetie,” Dean crooned, getting up and taking Ava, leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek. You looked tired; Ava had been suffering with gastroenteritis for a week which had left you both run ragged. “Go finish your shower. You haven’t had two minutes to yourself today.”

You smiled at him gratefully. “You’re tired too, baby, you’ve been at work all day.”

Dean grinned back, bouncing Ava on his hip. “Well, we can’t help that Daddy’s big merger came on the heels of a tummy bug, can we?” Ava shrieked and giggled, reaching out with her chubby fingers to grab at Dean’s cheeks. Snot dribbled from her nose and Dean made a face in disgust but that only made the nine-month-old laugh harder.

“You’re sure?” you asked again and Dean growled, slapping at your clothed ass. “Okay! Okay! I’m going.”

He watched you leave, much preferring the nude version, before carrying Ava over to the couch and sitting down, balancing her in his lap. Her big green eyes focused on him, the fist back in the mouth and coated with drool. “Man, wish I could still get my fist in my mouth,” Dean murmured and Ava giggled around her fingers, pulling them free and offering them to him. “You’re gross,” he complained as she made a swipe for his nose. “But I love ya anyway, kid.”

Ava shrieked happily before sneezing, right over his shirt. Dean sighed and picked Ava up, sitting her against the cushions securely. He stripped his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch towards the utility, scooping his daughter from the couch.

“You’re feeling a little overheated, baby girl,” Dean cooed, unbuttoning her romper so she could get some fresh air. His nose wrinkled up in distaste. “And you definitely need a diaper change.”

Thirty minutes later, you climbed out of the shower you’d been craving all week and wrapped yourself in a towel, throwing Dean’s robe on over the top. You exited the bathroom, emerging into the lounge and stopping dead as you saw the adorable sight sprawled across the couch.

The television was showing reruns of Scooby-Doo and Dean was laid across the cushions, mouth open in a silent snore as he slept. He was propped up on the couch with one arm protectively wrapped around Ava, in nothing but a diaper, snoozing on his chest with her mouth open in a similar fashion. A little puddle of drool was gathering under her cheek.

Grabbing your phone, you unlocked it and snapped a few photos, knowing Dean would probably kill you but you needed to keep that moment forever.

*****

Poppy was running around your feet, chasing Jackson’s laces as he tried to get his school shoes on. Hopping over his legs and the dog, you grabbed Ava’s backpack, stuffing her lunch in before doing the same with Jackson’s.

“The bus is here!” Ava yelled, just as Dean walked into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding Poppy, who had bounded to the door to bark at the bus through the window. Jackson managed to get his laces done and his dad high-fived him as he got to his feet.

“See you later, Dad! Bye Mom!” the young boy yelled, chasing his sister out of the door as Poppy stood on the porch and continued to bark.

Dean picked up his coffee while you were dumping the dishes in the sink, flashing you a grin. “Ten years later and you’re still sexy as fuck,” he murmured, reaching over to slap your ass.

You glared at him with a smirk, nodding at his shirt and jeans. “Don’t you have an office to go to?”

“Not today, baby,” Dean informed you, pulling you away from the dishes, not caring about the suds that flew everywhere. “Today I’m all yours. And tomorrow, and the day after that -”

“Did you quit?” you gasped. “I mean, I know you’ve been stressed and the firm was never what you really wanted to do and I’m behind you one hundred percent, you know that -”

Dean laughed, shaking his head and silencing you with one finger. “Sssh. I didn’t quit. I took a month off.”

“A month?” you squeaked.

“Yeah. I haven’t taken vacation in two years, not since we took the kids to Disneyland.” He shrugged, pulling away. “And I miss you. I’ve been working so damn hard to make partner so I can see more of you that I’ve seen less of you.” You pouted, slipping your arms around his neck. “In fact,” he purred, arching an eyebrow into his slightly greying hairline, “I’m not seeing enough of you right now.”

His fingers grabbed the knot on your robe, opening it with the intention of perving on your nude body but instead, he was met with Lilo & Stitch pyjamas. Dean blinked and you giggled. “The heater is still busted in our bedroom,” you said and tapped his cheek. “And the front door is wide open. You really want Mr. Linaker getting an eyeful of my goodies?”

Dean growled as you strutted away towards the front door. Poppy ran in, wagging her tail and heading straight for her kibble bowl.

Leaning your back against the front door, you locked eyes on Dean, smiling coyly as you pushed your robe off to let it pool on the floor. Dean’s eyes widened with interest. “So,” you started, shimmying out of your pyjama bottoms, “I’ve got you all to myself?”

He remained where he was, the look on his face purely sexual, and it sometimes amazed you how fucking hot he looked at forty years old.

You lifted the hem of your shirt, dragging the fabric over your head, dropping it to the floor as you locked eyes with him again. “Don’t you want me, baby?”

Dean moved and you bolted, running up the stairs with a shriek of laughter. He’d always been faster and this time was no different - you didn’t make it to the bed before he had hold of you, dragging your body against his. His cock was tenting his sweats and he didn’t waste any time in kissing you deeply enough to stop your giggles.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, stripping him without hesitation, both of you tumbling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and kisses. Dean groaned against your mouth, breaking away with a flushed complexion and dark eyes. “I gotta taste you, baby.”

A gasp tore from your lips as he abruptly slid down your body, forcing your legs apart with his hands. Dean moaned decadently when he lapped at your folds, easing his tongue into you. It was always just as good as the first time he did it and you hummed in pleasure, running your fingers through his hair.

He coaxed you to a much-needed climax, not stopping until you were a shuddering mess on the bed underneath him. Before Dean could cover your body with his own again, you stopped him, panting as you clutched his shoulder. “I wanna ride you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkled and he smiled, dropping himself to the side of you and folding his hands behind his head. “I’m always up for that show,” he commented and you smirked, not making a move to straddle him like he was expecting.

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you kept your eyes on his face, watching the way his jaw clenched the first time you stroked him. Pre-cum was leaking from the tip of his shaft, slicking your movements as you teased out each stroke.

Dipping your head, you dragged the point of your tongue across his slit, smiling at the deep moan you received in response. Covering the base with your hand, you slipped your lips down over his length, closing your eyes so you could concentrate on not choking.

Dean always had the most distracting face.

His little whimpers and groans were high-pitched and desperate as you alternated between slow strokes, running your tongue along the vein that traveled the length of his cock; and hard swallows where his cockhead hit the back of your throat and made you gag around him. The hand that wasn’t holding his cock was cupping his balls, gently massaging the sensitive sac in your fingers.

Dean’s hands weren’t behind his head anymore. They were clawed into the duvet covers either side of his hips, the one closest to you reaching out to stroke your bare thigh as he stuttered and groaned loudly.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he warned, brushing your thigh again. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth.”

You pulled back with a pout, still stroking him slowly. “You don’t?” Dean shook his head, reaching for you. “Where do you wanna cum?”

He growled lightly, pulling you across his body and you giggled, positioning your thighs either side of his so his cock was pressed against your wet slit. “Y/N…”

“You’re impatient,” you hissed, rolling your hips so he could feel how wet you were. “I would have been happy to suck you off and then wait for round two.” Dean grunted in irritation, knowing his round two nowadays and his round two ten years ago were very different things. “I can’t remember the last time we did that.”

“Jackson,” Dean muttered, grabbing for your hips to hold you still. “It was the night I knocked you up eight years ago.” You hummed, leaning in for a kiss so you could lift you hips, allowing his cockhead to press against your hole. “Now,” he snarled, “shut up and ride me.”

With a click of your tongue, you sank down on him. His face twisted in pleasure and you moaned, closing your eyes so you could feel the slick of his cock inside you. “That better?” you muttered, rocking your pelvis against him, feeling him slip deeper. “Oh, fuck -”

Dean groaned, lifting his chin and straining his neck as you started to ride him, keeping each stroke even and hard, slapping your ass against his thighs. His hands were on your thighs and he was already struggling to control himself. “Baby, I can’t -”

He pushed his hand between your legs, using his thumb to massage your clit and you cried out, throwing your head back. Between his touch on your clit and the thickness of his cock inside you, you came just as he did. Dean dragged you down onto his chest, kissing you hard, one hand tangled in your hair.

Both of you were panting heavily when you separated and Dean chuckled as you rolled off. “If you’re expecting a round two -”

“Are you kidding me?” you gasped, throwing a pillow at him and he laughed. “That was dirty talk. I’m exhausted.”

*****

“Mrs. Smith?”

You turned, offering a feeble smile to the nurse. She beckoned you forward and you followed, letting her lead you to Dean’s room.

“He’s awake now,” the nurse said softly, “but try not to get him too excited. He’s going to be very weak for a while.” With a nod, you left her side, entering the room slowly. Dean was staring at the window with lidded eyes; he looked draw and pale, older than his forty-eight years.

“Hey,” you whispered, taking the seat at his side. He smiled, reaching out a hand and you took it, mindful of the clip on his forefinger. “How you holdin’ up, stud?”

Dean laughed lightly, the smallest action causing him pain. “I’m doin’ okay, sweetheart. Doc always did warn me I was headed for an early grave.”

“I know you’re headed for early retirement,” you urged. “Dean, we don’t need to work. We’re lucky. And…” Tears were stinging your eyes now. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

He smiled fondly, weakly lifting your hand so he could kiss your knuckles. “You ain’t losin’ me, Y/N.” You nodded, wiping your eyes. “As long as you promise not to walk out when my dick doesn’t work anymore.”

“Ew, Dad!” Ava’s high pitched protest made you giggle and laugh more. Dean kissed your hand once more before releasing it.

“I promise,” you whispered and Dean chuckled under his breath. Ava swept in for a hug, kissing her father’s cheek and you sat back, relieved to finally see your husband awake. He wasn’t nearly out of the woods but you wouldn’t leave his side.

It was months of physical therapy before Dean was anywhere near the level of fitness he should have been, let alone was before the aortic aneurysm. But he was stronger than anyone you’d ever known and the talk of early retirement had become reality. Ava was starting her second year of college and Jackson was graduating from high school.

There was no need to live near the city anymore.

Packing up, you and Dean moved, not far, but far enough that opening the windows resulted in bird song and the sound of the wind. Not traffic jams and airplanes. You took up painting, Dean spent his time fixing cars in the garage. The kids came to visit and spent the holidays.

It was late May. You were sat on the porch, enjoying the warm evening, eyes closed and head tipped back on the porch swing. The front door opened and closed and Dean’s weight made the seat jostle as he sat next to you.

“Beer?” he asked and you opened your eyes, looking down at the offered drink. Shaking your head, you closed your eyes again and Dean shrugged, placing it on the floor. “You okay?”

“Tired,” you replied, rolling your head towards him.

He was still handsome, even if he constantly moaned about aches and pains. It happened - you were both past sixty now. Dean liked to remind you that you were a grandmother constantly; it didn’t seem to matter that he was older than you.

“You need me to carry you up to bed?” he leered and you giggled, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I can still walk, thank you very much.” You sighed, watching a lone bird fly across the pink sky. “Ava is flying in next week. Jackson can’t come this year.”

“That sucks,” Dean sulked, pouting. “I guess I’ll just have to party without him.” The thought of Dean partying now was amusing and you smiled, closing your eyes again. “Babe, if you’re tired, go to bed. It’s like,” he glanced at his watch, “nine. Damn, I’m old.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, holding his arm and starting to drift with his shoulder warm under your cheek. Dean sighed; a happy sound that made you look up. “What?” you asked.

“I never thought I’d have this life,” he muttered, staring out into the street. “Always felt like something was missing beside me, y’know?” You nodded, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down to lace your fingers together. “Turns out, it was you.”

“I’m glad it was me,” you whispered back, stroking your thumb across his hand. “We had a good life.”

“Don’t talk like it’s over, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, reaching up to cup your face, kissing you softly. “We got years to go yet.” His eyes crinkled with adoration and you kissed him back.

“I know,” you replied, patting his knee and getting to your feet. “I’m gonna head up. You coming?”

“Am I getting laid?” he asked honestly and you paused at the door, thinking about it. “C’mon, that was romantic.” You narrowed your eyes and Dean grinned. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I met you.”

Rolling your eyes, you motioned for him to follow and the two beers were forgotten on the porch as he chased you up to the bedroom.

Even after all the years between then and now, Dean was still faster than you.

But you always went together.


End file.
